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Recovery

I languish in my loneliness
Beneath the heavy cloak I made
From all those shattered dreams
On all those dark winters days

I brood, I scream
I am lost, I pray,
I snap, I snarl
I compensate the days away

I work the anvil of this broken body
Creating only cold comforts
In failing, straining muscle
I am marking time, marking pace

I need the thrill coursing in my blood
I lack the the patience, not the will
When will I return
When will I heal

© 2014 Peter Anstiss

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Comments
  1. Miranda Stone says:

    Very powerful.

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